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My heart pounds, each beat heavy with dread. The elevator ride to the fifth floor feels excruciatingly slow, the quiet hum doing nothing to soothe my panic.
As soon as the doors open, I’m out, practically running down the hallway. I see my mother, standing in the corner, her shoulders shaking. As I close the distance between us, I see the tears streaming down her face, her usually composed expression crumbling.
The moment she sees me, she rushes forward and clings to me, her hands trembling as she grips my arms.
“He’s gone, Emily,” she chokes out, her voice thick with grief. “He’s gone. His heart just stopped.”
My heart feels like it stops, too. I pull her close, feeling her shake against me as she sobs, her pain raw and unfiltered. My mind refuses to process the words.
He can’t be gone. He was supposed to wake up. He was supposed to come back to us.
Andrew stands nearby, his hand resting gently on my back. I feel his support, his quiet strength as he stays by my side, though he must be confused about what is going on.
“It happened so fast,” my mother whispers through her tears. “One minute, he was stable, and the next…” Her words trail off, lost in another sob.
I don’t know how long we stand there, the weight of the moment pressing down on me, suffocating and inescapable. The world around us feels distant and hazy, a harsh contrast to the searing pain in my chest.
I glance up at Andrew, and he gives me a slight nod, his expression filled with compassion and understanding.
The air feels thick, stifling, as I stand with my mother, her body trembling against mine. I don’t know how to comfort her; I don’t know how to comfort myself.
My father is gone. The words echo hollowly in my mind, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to grasp their reality.
Then I spot Lisa rushing into the waiting room. She spots us immediately, her face stricken, and she hurries over, wrapping her arms around me and my mother without a word.
The warmth of her embrace is grounding, giving me something to hold onto as my world unravels.
She doesn’t need to ask. She knows without my telling her that he’s gone.
After a moment, I glance up at Andrew. His face is drawn with concern, but there’s patience there too—a willingness to wait until I’m ready to explain.
It hits me how little he knows, how I’ve kept so much from him, and the weight of it is like something sitting on my chest.
I take a deep breath, letting go of Lisa and my mother, and walk over to him. My hands shake as I reach for him, feeling like an imposter.
“I’m so sorry, Em.” His voice is low, his gaze warm but laced with sympathy. He takes my hands, his thumbs brushing over my knuckles as he holds me.
He pauses, his brows knitting together. “Who died?”
Chapter 35: Andrew
“My father,” Emily whispers, her voice breaking.
Confusion scrambles through my mind. “Your father?” I repeat, needing to hear it again to make sure I didn’t misinterpret her words.
She nods, her gaze cast downward. “He’s been in the hospital these last few days. It was a stroke.”
Shock roots me in place. “You didn’t tell me?”
Emily’s eyes flicker with guilt. “It’s not the only thing I didn’t tell you. He wasn’t traveling, Andrew. He had a major stroke almost ten months ago. He’s been at home ever since, in a coma. We hoped he’d wake up, but now…”
Her voice cracks, and she can’t finish the sentence. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she looks small, fragile.
Before I can process it all, she starts to cry, and instinctively, I pull her into my arms. She shakes, her grief raw and deep, and I hold her but my mind is reeling.
Her father has been in a coma all this time? Not overseas? The man she mentioned in passing, always ‘somewhere else,’ was actually fighting for his life at home.
A surge of disbelief twists in my gut, and I struggle to keep it from showing on my face.